


Mending

by grandfatherclock



Series: Edubation [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Collars, Community: widojest love, Dom Jester Lavorre, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Safeword Use, Sub Caleb Widogast, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Caleb raises an eyebrow as Jester holds up her new purchase, gesturing to it wildly with her other hand. She’sbeaming,shaking it soexcitedly, and Caleb watches her silently for a moment longer before closing his book, resting it against his lap. “Acollar, Lavorre?” His voice is neutral, the smile playing on his lips genuine andfondbut his eyes careful. His gaze traces over it in Jester’s hand, watching Jester walk up to him and sit beside him on the couch. “You would be… into this kind of thing?” His voice is soft, and Jester doesn’tmisshow his eyes are slightly darker as he watches the leather, that imperceptible little swallow as he shifts to mirror her stance fully, head tilted as he stares at her bright smile.“It’s agift,” Jester says, reaching out and curling Caleb’s hand around the collar.





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to do [@dorcasdeadowes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcasdeadowes/pseuds/dorcasdeadowes) for beta'ing!

Caleb raises an eyebrow as Jester holds up her new purchase, gesturing to it wildly with her other hand. She’s _beaming, _shaking it so _excitedly_, and Caleb watches her silently for a moment longer before closing his book, resting it against his lap. “A _collar_, Lavorre?” His voice is neutral, the smile playing on his lips genuine and _fond_ but his eyes careful. His gaze traces over it in Jester’s hand, watching Jester walk up to him and sit beside him on the couch. “You would be… into this kind of thing?” His voice is soft, and Jester doesn’t _miss_ how his eyes are slightly darker as he watches the leather, that imperceptible little swallow as he shifts to mirror her stance fully, head tilted as he stares at her bright smile.

“It’s a _gift_,” Jester says, reaching out and curling Caleb’s hand around the collar. Her two freckled hands hold his calloused, blackened fingers, and she watches him stare at the smooth stitched black leather with his considering eyes. It’s soft, comfortable, Marion recommended the seller to Jester the last time she visited Nicodranas, and Jester flushes slightly as Caleb feels the dainty little loop. He fits a finger between it, and Jester could just _imagine _tugging him closer, having him moaning and flushing and _hard_ under her. His eyes flit between the collar and Jester, and she can _see_ the pattern of his breathing change, _see_ that way the movement of his arms tighten a little—it could either be _stress_ he’s hiding, or _anticipation_. She smiles at him, leaning close and pressing her forehead against his. He leans into her, and his skin is so _warm_ against hers. “We don’t have to _use_ it, Cayleb. I don’t _want_ to use it if it makes you _uncomfortable_.”

He lets out a breathless little laugh, eyes closing for a moment before they flutter open again. His grip on the collar tightens, his thumb brushing over the fine strip of leather, over the small silver buckles at the back. He raises his other hand to brush it over her cheek, and Jester tilts her head to his touch. “Thank you for the gift.” He sounds e_arnest_ as he says it, his eyes finally meeting hers for a moment and quirking up his lips. She knows eye contact isn’t something he’s _incredibly _fond of, so it must be important to him, that she knows he _means_ what he’s saying. He kisses her chastely, his soft lips against hers, and Jester grins into it, grins wider as he pulls back. “I will consider it, Lavorre.” 

“Okay,” Jester says happily, tail swishing. She leans into him, pushing him back into the headboard covered by pillows, and he cocks his head as he listens to her talk about how _cool_ the shopkeep was when she visited, how _nice_ the collar is compared to the ones in the seedier stores she passed through in Zadash. His arm curls around her waist, and Jester closes her eyes, loving the way his warmth encompasses her. Caleb absentmindedly kisses Jester's shoulder as she talks, and her tail playfully strokes his cheek as she looks through her bag, smushing a pastry into his mouth as she stuffs one into her own. He smiles as he chews, and tightens his hands on her.

She doesn’t miss how his eyes keep flitting back to the collar, doesn’t miss how his jaw shifts, doesn’t miss how he keeps thumbing that _loop_ as she talks. He’s _playing _with it, and she knows the silver metal must be cold against his heated skin, knows some part of him finds it a balm in a similar way to when his hands run down her sides, her shivering as that warm touch chases the coolness of her freckled blue skin. He catches the rim of the loop between two blackened fingertips, and Jester continues to talk, knowing that if he wanted to discuss this _now_, he would’ve circled the conversation back to the collar. Jester just smiles privately and doesn’t draw attention to his movement. He’ll bring it up if he’s in the headspace she _thinks_ he’s slowly dipping his toes into.

Right now, though, they just cuddle.

It’s two weeks later that he sits still on her couch, eyes fluttering shut as she comes up close, blue fingertips trailing over the soft skin of his pale neck. It looks so _delicate_, so smooth and translucent against his amulet, and she can’t _wait _to ruin it, ruin _him_, dig her fanged teeth into his pretty skin. His jaw shifts at her light touch, and his breathing becomes slightly heavier as she shifts her fingers down lower for a moment, tugging the collar of his shirt to see more of his bare skin. “You’re gonna be _such _a good boy for me,” Jester coos, her other hand holding the leather collar coming up close. She lets go of the shirt, and carefully curls the collar around him, making sure the small little loop stays at his front. “Right, _Cayleb_?”

Caleb exhales through his teeth, and stays perfectly still where he sits on the couch. His hands are on his black trousers, rough fingers digging into the fabric there, and he opens his eyes, looking at her through his eyelashes where she stands in front of him. His nice white shirt fits him so _well_, Jester can’t _wait _to get him all bare and splayed out and _for_ her. “Ja, sir.” Caleb's voice is low, demure, and his breath hitches just a _leetel_ as she begins to latch it around him, all snug against his neck.

Jester tries not to _preen_ at _sir_, but from the almost imperceptible little quirk to Caleb’s lips and how her tail flicks behind her, she knows she _kind of _fails. Caleb raised his eyebrows when she said she wanted to be called that when they discussed all this beforehand, and she flushed then, wringing her hands, saying, _I’ve just never been called that before_, and he smiled, saying, _Anything you’d like… sir_, making her flush _harder_, beaming to herself. Jester makes the collar as tight as he told her he’d like it earlier, her mind still on _sir_—tight enough that he can feel it when he swallows, with enough room that she can move it without chafing the leather against his skin. She finishes latching it and lets her fingers trail on the collar until one of them is against the cool metal of the loop. “_Colour?”_ she asks gently, her other hand raising to brush a loose strand of his hair out of his face.

Caleb's eyes meet hers for a considering second, and then his little smile _widens_. His eyes are dark, his breathing slightly uneven, and she watches him bite the inside of his cheek, watches his clever fingers tighten into the fabric of his trousers. “_Green_,” he promises, blinking slightly as Jester’s fingers curl in his hair. Jester runs the thumb of her other hand over his cheekbone, and he leans against it, _nuzzling_ into her hand—_oh_, he’s _good._ He stares at her with half-lidded eyes, looking all _wanton_, eyes flitting over her outfit before fixating somewhere along the bridge of her nose, and Jester smiles, _tugging_ his hair slightly to make his chin tilt up, to make his breath hitch, to _remind_ him of the rules. “Sir,” he adds after a moment, a light flush to his face.

Jester's smile widens, and she trails two fingers along his cheek, all the way to his pale skin just under his lower lip. She _knows_ what she’s wearing is _affecting,_ she can see Caleb tenting just _slightly _against his trousers, but she ignores his cock for now, she knows waiting is part of his game, part of his _pleasure_. He’s put himself in her hands tonight, only to be given _exactly_ what she thinks he deserves, and Jester cannot _wait _to make him see stars, cannot _wait _to peel off her layers and _have_ him. She wears one of _his _shirts, a nice gray one with the top unbuttoned to reveal the black brassiere that curves perfectly around her breasts and makes her skin there seem so _soft_, she couldn’t _help _but squeeze her own tits in delight when she saw how they made them _look_. The shirt is loose enough on her that it covers the matching black panties, but her black stockings with the diamond knit are quite _obvious_, making her legs look so _shapely_. His eyes _watch _her, _want_ her, and Jester smirks, because she _knows_.

Caleb opens his mouth, eagerly taking the first finger she probes around his lip into his mouth. She threads her other hand through his hair languidly, and he _sighs_ around her finger as she pulls. His eyes look _shadowed_ from the lanterns set up on the side table, half his face in shadow, and it's interesting seeing his face in what _he_ perceives to be the muted light. She can see the other half of his face clearly, can see the slight quirks in his expression, and she wants to trace every angle and crease in his face with her fingers, could do it for _hours_, do it for _days_. Jester is an _artist_ after all, and he’s one of the prettiest things she’s ever _seen_, looking at her like _that_ as he sucks her finger, sucks her other one as she pushes it into his mouth _too_. He’s so _warm_ around her cool digits, she can see him slightly _shiver_, and he runs his tongue along her skin with such _skill_, jaw shifting to accommodate them, parting his pretty pink lips.

Jester_ thrusts_ her fingers into his mouth in careful movements, _just_ rough enough that he’ll enjoy it. She’s hovering where he stands, this _perfect_ demure and wanton expression on his face, even shifting the movement of his head to meet her thrusts, taking her fingers into his mouth as far in as he’s able, and it’s _hot_, Jester can _feel_ herself getting a little wet watching how he performs for her, watching his hands digging into his pants to keep _still_, be _good_. That collar looks perfect set against his neck, and she can see it shift as Caleb breathes, as he swallows. The loop touches his heated skin, and Jester wonders if it's grounding for him like her touch is, having that coolness against all his searing heat. He sighs, and Jester _grins_, leaning close and sitting on his lap, light to make sure she doesn’t touch his crotch. Her stockings move with her skin, move as she parts her thighs and sits on his legs.

Caleb sighs, and he almost _chases_ her fingers as she pulls them out, only stopping with a little whining sound that _surprises_ Jester—but it _shouldn’t_, Caleb _likes_ being dominant, _likes_ having control, but he’s fucking _radiant_ being submissive, _radiant_ as he _moans_ at her fingers tightening in his fiery hair that frames his face all delicate and pretty. His pale blue eyes glow in the orange light, and she watches the wet trail she leaves as her fingers, previously in his mouth, drag on his chin _shine_ lightly in the light. He lets out a shuddering sigh as her hand trails in patterned movements over his scalp, disheveling it further, and he’s so _soft_, so _hazy _like this, as she grabs his hand in hers and just touches it, feeling that warmth against her.

Jester’s holy symbol is on Caleb’s _desk_ right now, with _his_ spellbook and messy collection of notes and spell components, so she shouldn’t _technically _be able to _cast_ spells that aren’t _cantrips_, but like she’s been _telling_ everyone—the Traveler isn’t _like _other gods. Jester murmurs a quick prayer in Infernal to her lovely deity, tracing his symbol onto Caleb’s side against his cloth, and Caleb _watches_, an eyebrow almost imperceptibly rising as he _feels_ the Traveler’s rune, _feels_ glittering pink magic that arcs around them, illuminating them in _brilliant _pink light—and _oh,_ Caleb _smiles_ as he takes in the purple she looks in this pink hue, he looks like he remembers that _night_ in this _room_, he looks so _brilliant _himself—

Jester casts _Dimension Door_ and _gently _pushes Caleb into the glittering light behind him. He follows her movement, malleable under her, and Jester _grins_ at the trust on his face, _grins_ at the way the pink plays on the angles of his cheekbones, on the bridge of his nose. She leans close, rolling her hips just _barely _and rubbing the cloth of her slightly wet panties against his trousers, interrupting how his eyes widen as he _feels_ it with a kiss, the front of her chest _pressing_ against his as they stumble into the light, stumble into her _spell_. In that moment, _everything_ glows around him, and Caleb’s mouth is all open for her searching tongue. She runs it against his teeth, feels _his _tongue searing against hers, thoroughly claiming him as her own, and _tugs_ his hair. Her lips start leaving kisses against his sharp jaw as they’re falling, and falling, and _falling_—

Just a couple of _metres_ away, Caleb’s head on the pillow beside his bed’s headboard. He stares up at her in disbelief, probably so _surprised_ she used such high level magic for something so _simple, _but Jester smiles where he lays there, watching his beautiful red hair strewn over for a moment. He’s lovely, already flushing under her gaze, and he _groans_ as Jester shifts where she sits. Jester smirks as she moves up, so that she’s resting right over his clothed cock, _quickly _hardening as she rolls her hips again, feeling the drag of her panties against his layered hardness. “Sir,” he sighs, and his eyes become _darker_ as Jester leans over, her brassiere against his shirt as she presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Her other hand reaches for his neck, fingers trailing before her index finger curls over the loop. He exhales through his teeth, eyes _wide_.

“Colour?” she sighs, the shirt she loosely wears billowing down like a pretty curtain. It reveals more of her freckled blue skin for his searching eyes, shows her toned stomach, and Jester _feels_ him getting harder as she straddles him, thighs pulled apart so her knees brace on either side of his legs. She kisses the _other_ corner of his mouth as she breathes out the question, and smiles as she feels him exhale through his teeth, feels his hips remain too still as he forces himself not to grind against her. _Good boy_, she thinks giddily. Her hair curtains her face, falling around _his_, and it’s _romantic_, it’s a_ contrast_ against his red, against his paleness. She loves the idea of herself just _on _him, _around_ him, _having_ him, loves the idea of him not being able to wear this gray shirt without thinking of her black brassiere tight and pressing against her breasts.

“_Green_, sir,” he says, his accented voice so _low_ as he watches her with his half-lidded eyes. He bites his lower lip as she stares at him, chin tilted out to reveal more of his pretty neck for her, all flushing and delicate. That black leather against him is _obscene_, and Jester smiles, leaning close to press her breasts up against his shirt. He _sighs_ as Jester presses a kiss against the underside of his jawline and then _bites_, her fangs grazing his skin. She leaves the _prettiest_ bruise, and smiles proudly at it as Caleb _moans_, shifting under her but steadying and _stilling _himself as Jester watches. His breath _trembles_ as she curls her tail around his leg, squeezing it playfully.

Jester hums cheerfully under her breath, and continues to trail kisses down his neck, continues to scrape her teeth and fangs and watch his skin darken with delighted eyes. Moans spill out from Caleb’s parted lips, and Jester rolls her hips again, feeling that slide of her panties against her wet cunt, against the hardened outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He has far too many _fucking _layers, and she _tugs_ with the finger resting on the silver loop of the collar, tugs him _close_. “My _perfect_ toy,” she sighs, trailing her cool tongue against his neck. He _moans_, arching his neck and offering her _more_, he’s so fucking _good_ for her, and she tugs again, this time tightening her fingers in his hair as she worries the pale skin between her teeth, leaving a _perfect_ mark there above his shirt. She absentmindedly puts a finger under the leather of the collar, feeling it against her skin, and Caleb _whines_, looking down and watching her.

Caleb doesn’t resist her when she slides the hand in his hair down his neck, shivering only slightly as her cool hand continues down his nape. She shifts lower in his lap, no longer sitting directly over his crotch, grinding against it once more and making him _sigh_ before continuing in her movement. Her hand continues down his neck, against the delicate skin, and she watches him, her fingers splayed against the first button of his shirt. From how her fingers press on the button, her intention is clear, and as she opens her mouth to ask the question, he hisses, “Green, sir.” He sounds so _wanting_, and Jester can tell from that _leetel_ strain in his voice that he’s _feeling_ her teasing, getting all breathless from this game that has hardly begun.

The smile on Jester’s smile widens, and she _tugs_ on Caleb’s loop, making him sigh as she raises her head and _smashes _their lips together into a hard kiss, her tongue rough and demanding in his mouth. His hips are _trembling_, still not thrusting up, and Jester smiles, her tongue sliding against his so _possessively _before pulling him back, her hand holding the collar and preventing him from chasing her. “Don’t _interrupt_, Cayleb,” she chides, and then presses him _back_ with her hand on his neck, back until he’s pressed up against the pillow and his hair is splayed all pretty around his head. His eyes darken as she says his name, and she _smirks_ as she _pops_ the first button, making him exhale as he watches. Jester looks to the newly revealed pale skin with delight, and presses a kiss against it, and murmurs the divine incantations against his skin as she _bites_, making him _shift_ under her. There’s that muted pink glow again, and she casts _Mending_ on the button to fix it, her hands already going to pop the _next_ button.

His eyes are so _wide_ as he watches her, his breathing punctuated by these trailing moans each time she runs her teeth over his delicate skin, looking gorgeous in those momentary _flashes_ of pink. He _whines_ just slightly as her finger leaves his loop to drag on his shoulders, fingers sliding all the way down his arms—she’s careful not to linger on the scars, continuing to mark the warm skin of his stomach as she happens to feel them—and pulling off the shirt, leaving it all bunched up and rumpled under him. When she sits up to admire her handiwork, looking to the patchwork of bruises on his bare chest, her eyes _immediately_ go back to that thin leather looking so _cozy _there on him, that little loop adorable as he trembles under her wanting gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, his face all _flushed_, and he's _perfectly_ splayed there for her.

Jester smiles again, index finger once more reaching out to rest against his collar. Caleb sighs at that, sighs into her mouth as she leans down and _kisses_ him, the delicate fabric of her brassiere brushing against his bare skin, and she reaches for his hand, intertwining her fingers in his and _squeezing_. He tightens his grip on hers after a moment as their tongues dance around each other, and Jester _smiles _as she catches his bottom lip in her teeth, biting slightly as she begins to move his hand, move it to rest up against his forehead. She replaces the hand holding his collar, _tugging_ it as she continues to slant her mouth against Caleb’s and making him _groan_ into her mouth, as she does the same for his _other _arm, making it so his arms are resting around his pillow. Jester _presses_ his hand deep against the mattress for a moment before she pulls back, taking a moment to admire his slightly bruising lips. They’re just a _leetel_ pinker than they normally are, accentuated by her light lipstick and how roughly she’s played with them, and she strokes his cheek. “Keep your hands there, _okay_?”

“Okay, sir,” he sighs, shifting slightly as he braces himself, trying to get comfortable. He keeps his wrists _pinned_ against the mattress, perfectly obedient, perfectly flushing, perfectly _perfect_, and Jester kisses him again as she grinds her wet panties against a covered leg. He shifts, the expression on his face making it _clear_ he can feel the wet slide of her undergarments, and Jester grins, her other hand reaching out to rub his nipple, pinching it as he moans, twisting it as he _arches_, catching himself and already lowering down before Jester can reprimand him. His cock is _hard_, she can feel it against her stomach, and Jester looks down, giggling at it before letting go of his nipple, lightly resting her hand on his covered inner thigh as he trembles. 

“Good boy,” she giggles, a hand reaching to rub his cock through his layers. His thighs _shake_ as he forces himself not to jerk up into her touch, and she has to admire his restraint, he’s so _different_ from her in this way. He feels so _hard_, feels so _warm_ despite having to touch him through the fabric, and she forces her hand away, forces it to his waistband as she looks to him with dark eyes, cocking her head playfully. “What should I _do _to you, babe? I could ride your _cock_”—and _oh,_ she _sees_ his dick twitch at _that_, making her smile widen as she tugs a little on his loop so she can hear him _moan_—“or maybe something _else_.” She _winks_ at him as she trails her thumb over his lower lip, likes listening to the dragging of his breath. “Would you _like _that, Cayleb?” She rubs his pink lip, rolling her hips against his leg to ease off some of her own pressure.

“_Ja, _sir,” he sighs, fluttering his eyes shut for a moment before _opening_ them, looking at her with a heated expression. The lantern light makes his face look so _angular,_ so _perfect_, and Jester does not _miss_ his gaze following her hand as it lightly squeezes her own breast, cool hand against the soft fabric before its back on Caleb’s cheek. “Green, sir.” _Hard_, he’s _hard_, Jester is _sure_ his underwear is stained with the precome leaking out of his desperate cock, and she gives it a sympathetic smile, running her tongue over her lower lip and making him _whine. _Jester leans down to kiss him again, _feeling_ his restlessness, and he groans, arms _tensing_ but not moving from the position she laid them in.

“_Good_ boy,” she coos, a hand reaching down to run over her own folds through the wet cloth of her panties. Fuck the _Traveler_, the drag of the fabric feels so _good_, but she watches Caleb’s _face_ as she touches herself, knowing this is _nothing_ compared to his talented tongue and lips and teeth. He bites his lower lip under her gaze, and Jester _grins_, easily _pulling _and _ripping _off her panties, holding the ruined fabric up to him. Divine incantations leave her parting lips _again_, and she feels him _shift _his hips under her thighs as she casts _Mending _once more, fixing the intricate lace. Her smile widens as he watches her panties for a moment, and she brings it to his nose as she crawls up him—_like a tree, _she thinks, her tail swishing excitedly behind her, _I’m literally climbing him like a tree_—and _resists_ the urge to grind against his cock again. He inhales, and Jester winks again, all playful as she arranges her toned thighs _carefully_ around his head, sitting on the top of his chest as she smiles down at him. She makes sure to keep most of her weight on her knees, running a hand through his hair once more as she pulls away her panties and throws them to the side. “You can _move_, Cayleb.”

Caleb exhales through his teeth, eyes looking up to her and glittering with such _adoration_ that it makes her flush despite herself, her smile becoming shy as he reverently kisses her thigh, teeth scraping against the delicate freckled skin. Jester _tugs_ his hair again, fingers tightening on his strands, and Caleb _smiles_ as she rolls her hips, reaching up to run his tongue through her folds, his mouth as skilled and _warm _as ever. She can _see_ that quirk of his lips as she _moans_, but he repeats the movement again before she can call him out on it, his tongue dragging on her clit for a moment longer before he continues. He makes a pleased sound as Jester begins to rock her hips, slowly establishing a pattern as he continues to eat her out, his jaw shifting as he does, and Jester _giggles_ as she watches his hands trembling from where they stay obediently in their positions.

“_Good_,” Jester _moans_, feeling her knees against the rumpled bed sheets as she thrusts against his mouth. She’s careful not to put too much of her weight on him, careful to keep _watching_ and make sure he’s okay. He’ll _tell _her if he isn’t, gasp out a colour that _isn’t_ green if something feels wrong, feels _bad_, but she can feel him _shifting_ underneath her, hips moving lightly as his lips _hook_ on her clit. He _sucks_, and she feels the _hint_ of teeth scraping against it, making her thighs shake just _slightly _before she rolls her hips again, the movement rougher this time. He _moans_ against her, continuing to play with her clit with his talented tongue, and Jester tilts her head to look over her shoulder, to watch how fucking _hard_ he is right now, his cock is _straining _so tight against his layers. She allows her tail to inch close, snaking over his chest, and it rests against his waistband for a moment before continuing _over_ the cloth, lightly wrapping around his erection. After all, she doesn’t want to torture him _too much_, and Jester thinks the coolness of her spade against the head of his cock might actually ruin him in a way she wants to do _later_. “Such a _good_ boy for _meeee_.”

He makes this little sound, Jester thinks it might’ve been a _whimper_, as she runs her thumb lightly in patterned movements over his scalp, trying to ground him in her cool touch. He groans, and her grinding thrusts stutter for a moment as she feels him run his tongue in a circle around her entrance, shallowly probing her. Jester _sighs_ as she finally feels him _enter_, feels that tongue against her inner walls as she rolls her hips. He makes a groaning sound, arms trembling where they’re splayed, and Jester traces her eyes over his completely submissive stance, the inner parts of his arms displayed for her as she grinds against his face, thighs shaking from how he presses in, deeper, and then deeper _still_—

“Such a _pretty_ toy,” Jester gasps, and grins as she sees him _flush_, this light pink over his face as his jaw shifts, tongue running along her interior walls. Her tail _squeezes _on his dick, and it’s _light_, just a _delicate_ sensation—she doesn’t want him to come _yet_, or even _soon_, but she can’t help but run her heart-shaped shade over where she knows the head of his cock is leaking, straining, probably flushed a desperate pink as she holds his hair in her sure, tight grip. She can see his eyes trail over her body, over his rumpled shirt and the black brassiere straining against it, so she _winks,_ reaching out with her other hand to squeeze her breast. He makes a choked moan, and Jester _knows_ if his hands were free he would’ve been kneading her ass, would’ve roughly pinched her nipple. She thinks she might’ve _liked_ his warm grip there, touching her and squeezing her and leaving little marks where his fingers were, so she watches him coyly as she _pushes_ herself on his tongue, her trembling hand reaching for the back of her brassiere.

Caleb _moans_ as she rips it free, too impatient to bother with the intricate latch on the back. He would’ve been careful, but she _isn’t_, that isn’t the type of considerate she is. Jester simply holds up the ruined fabric, stuttering through a breathless casting of _Mending_, and looks down to see Caleb cascaded in pretty pink, his hair looking _ethereal, _he’s so _ethereal._ A little like the _Traveler,_ almost, though Jester doesn’t quite know how he—_either_ he—would react if she said _that_. Just… he looks out of this world. He looks angelic, he looks perfect, he looks out of this world, and Jester feels _lucky_, sighs slipping past her parted lips as he establishes a pattern of his _own_, dragging his tongue as deep as he’s able before pulling back. He intersperses this with shallowly running his tongue through her folds and sucking her clit, making soft sounds as she grinds against him.

Jester smiles, feeling his shirt so _loose_ against her breasts. Caleb’s tongue pushing against her interior walls for longer and _longer _before he pulls back as she thrusts. He seems so _intent_ on finishing the job with just his mouth, his arms _trembling _as she watches, his covered dick _twitching_ at her impish smile, and Jester _knows_ her thrusts are stuttering, _knows_ she’s _close._ She raises a hand to knead one breast, the other one still running in patterned circles in his hair, and she admires how _disheveled_ he looks between her thighs. Jester is _shaking_, she _knows_ this, and she grins down at him as she pinches her nipple, as she presses longer onto his talented mouth. He _pushes _against her walls in this imitation of what his fingers would do when he can tell she was _close_, and Jester _flutters_ her eyes shut as he _runs_ his tongue in circles around her clit, sucking and insistent and _warm_—

Jester eyes snap _open_ and the roll of her hips _stills_ as she feels the scrape of his _teeth _against it, against her _clit_. The wet warmth of his mouth is so much, just a little _too _much, and she feels herself _coming_, feels it in the way her moan trails, feels it in how her chest is heaving as he continues to run his tongue through her folds. Feels it in the way her spine _locks_ in that moment, in the way that she sighs as she _trembles_. _Gods_, he’s _perfect_, and she’s whispering it to him as he _whines_, her hand pulling him back as she feels the overstimulation. Her legs _shake _as she crawls back, back _down_ to straddle his stomach—_like a tree_, she thinks, on the high her orgasm brought her—and her eyes _shine_ as she looks down to him. “You’re _so _good for me, Cayleb.” That sentence is breathed out, eyes wide.

Caleb looks up at her, and his lips look so _used_ as he offers her a little smile. He flushes slightly under her loving gaze, flushes _deeper_ as Jester rests her index finger over his collar, leaning down and pulling him _up_ into a claiming kiss. She tastes herself on him, and he _sighs_ against her as she bites his lower lip, holding it before letting go, peppering kisses against the rest of his face. “Thank you, sir,” he mumbles, his voice all _rough_ as he looks to her. She knows there’s a squirming, searing part of him _aching_ to disagree, _aching_ to try to convince her he’s _nothing at all, worth nothing at all, _but he bites his lower lip, watching her through his eyelashes. His hands are still _up, _still relatively _still_, even as his cock is so _hard_, probably a mess against his underwear, and Jester kisses him again, so _proud _of him. He whimpers against her lips, this delicate sound that leaves her just _delighted._

“I’ll take _care_ of _you_,” she promises, sitting on his stomach and running her hands lazily over his shoulders, thinking, _Mine, he’s mine_. He shivers under her touch, looking at her so _trustingly_, and Jester _tightens_ her tail’s grip on him, leaving lazy kisses along his jaw as she tries to relax her cunt, trying to help it through her recovery. She’s always been _fast_, her recovery has always been so _quick,_ and she knows she’ll soon be ready for him _again,_ ready to take him and have the image of that _collar_ against his pale skin as she thrusts down on that _perfect_ cock. Right now, though, she simply leans down, cleaning off some of the wetness with the grey of his shirt, leaving a chaste kiss on his forehead as her fingers curl on the cloth. He leans into her touch, arching his jaw out to her, and Jester gives him an indulgent kiss there too, grinning against his skin.

She eventually forces herself off him, giving him a sympathetic smile as he _whines_, watching her slip off the bed. His gaze rests on her bare ass, stares at the contrast of her freckled skin against her snug fishnet-clad legs, and Jester _grins, _squeezing her ass for him before pulling off the grey shirt. She leaves it there on the floor, intimately aware that, aside from the stockings, she is _completely _naked as she walks to his desk, and she coyly raises her tail, giving him an uninterrupted view as she looks through her bag set along his desk. It’s full of pretty things, like the nice pink rope they ended up agreeing not to use—Caleb’s jaw clenched, and Jester put her hand on his, insisting it was _alright, Cayleb, promise_—and Jester rustles through them, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she looks. She _grins_ as she finds her jar of oil, running back and _bouncing_ onto the bed, and looks with bright eyes at the outline of his cock.

“_Sir,”_ Caleb moans, as Jester tosses a leg over his to straddle his legs once more. Jester leans down, pressing a kiss on the delicate skin right over the waistband of his trousers, and he actually nearly _arches_ to the scrape of her fangs before Jester’s hand on his stomach pushes him _down_. His eyes are so _dark_, and he _trembles_ as Jester puts the jar to the side and _slowly _pulls the waistband _down_. He’s wearing brown underwear, and she sees his cock is pressed against it as she lowers down the black fabric of his trousers to the middle of his thighs, looking with delight to where the underwear is _wet_ with some of his precome. He shivers as she leans close, nudging her nose along his covered length and inhaling the scent of his arousal. She’s fucking _excited_, her tail flits around excitedly behind her, and he sighs as he feels her breath against his cock. “_Please_,” he groans, watching her every minute movement with his head up. His hands are still where she told them to be.

Jester giggles, tilting her head and watching him through her eyelashes. “You don’t have to keep them _up_, Cayleb,” she sighs, and he _blinks_ at her, _blinks _at the reprieve she’s offering him. Her smile widens as his tight clench on his arms starts to loosen. She kisses the head of his cock over the fabric of his underwear, feeling the slick in her mouth. His hips are _trembling, _she smiles at him so _proudly _at how he didn’t jerk to her mouth. “Just don’t touch _me_, okay?” He _stares_ at her, eyes wide and a considering look to his expression—_probably getting ideas for next time_, Jester thinks smugly, _probably gonna get me backkkk for this_—and she smiles wide, rewarding him for all his _restraint_ by opening her mouth _wider_ and taking in his head into the cool wetness of her mouth. It’s all light, all _shallow_ as she lazily sucks through the fabric, humming in delight as her hair falls all around her. She can _see_ him flushing_, see_ him bracing up with his arms, hands _tight _on the bed sheets, and she can see how he _watches_ her, _wants_ her.

Caleb makes these _wonderful _sounds now that his mouth is free, moaning and trembling and occasionally throwing his head back as she teases him. She doesn’t indulge herself on the weight of his cock in her mouth for _too_ long, and Caleb _whines _as she pulls back, wiping her lower face and grinning up at him. He watches her _slowly _peel down his other brown undergarments, wet against him, and Jester stares with wide eyes at his _cock_, at how it _leaks_, and he flushes _deeper_ as she leans close, pressing a kiss against it close to the base. “_Sir_,” he whispers, and he fucking _does_ arch as she runs her tongue up his length, choking out what else he was gonna say as a moan tears through his mouth.

Jester _grins, _reaching for her jar of oil, and opening the lid. He watches as she gets some on her hand and begins to slick his cock, hips pressed against the bed sheet as he _forces_ himself not to jerk into the touch of her cool hands. She squeezes him gently, watching that groan fumble past his parted lips, and smiles indulgently as his cock continues to leak, desperate and flushing to her touch. She _really _doesn’t think he’ll last too long, but that’s _alright, _he’s lasted so long _already_, and Jester can’t wait to have him _in _her, perfect _in _her like he's meant to be, _like you were meant to be_, she’s cooing to him, reaching over to pull a strand of his loose hair from behind his ear.

He exhales through his teeth and watches, eyes _dark_ with anticipation, as Jester begins to position herself over him, fingering her still loose cunt and stretching the two fingers inside of her as she prepares to take him. Her thighs _shake_, and Caleb stares, all keen and wanting, at the two digits embedded deep in her, at her stockings making her legs look so _pretty _as she sprawls over his body, at her messy hair framing her face as she sighs, at her nipples all pretty and _hard_ from how she’s played with them. He shifts his jaw, biting his lower lip, and tilts his head to her in that way he does when he’s indulging his own appearance, his own desire to play and be _seen_. “_Please,_ sir,” he murmurs, hands clenching his bed sheets so _tight_. His lips are pursed, he _knows_ what he’s doing, and he looks so _good _begging. “I want you, sir, just…” His eyes flutter shut, and after a moment, he opens them, one after the other as he smiles with this facsimile of shyness. “_Please_ fuck me, sir.” He shifts his jaw to reveal more of his neck, to show off that pretty _collar_.

“I _know_, mon ange,” Jester giggles, leaning down to press the head of his cock up against her wet folds. She reaches out to brace her hands on his chest, lightly rubbing against his cock, and though her thighs _ache_, it is _worth it_ to see that _tormented_ expression on his face as he _moans_, feeling her wetness with none of the ease of the pressure that comes from her cunt clenched around him. He mouths _please_ as Jester _strokes_ the base of his dick, angling him against her entrance, and _looks_ to him, fluttering her eyelashes and making him let out a silent laugh. He is a _sight_, completely naked up from his cock besides that amulet and his pretty little collar that contrasts against the paleness of his throat, and Jester is so _ready _to take him, _have_ him, just needs to make sure of _one_ last thing, she always does when he gets that _kind _of arrogant… “_Colour?_”

“_Green_, sir,” he _hisses_, just as she finishes talking, his accent all _tight_ around those syllables. His voice trails off into a _moan_ as she begins to lower herself down, rocking her hips and taking him in inch by careful inch as she sighs, fingers digging into his front as she feels him breach her open. Her toned fishnet-clad legs tense as she rolls her hips, bracing herself with her thighs spread over him, and he’s so _big_, the oil is helping and the fact that she’s so fucking _loose_ from coming does too, but _still_… Jester _moans_ as she thrusts down, feeling his cock _twitch_ inside of her as it drags against her inner walls, drags up, up, _continues_—and she’s _flush _against him, just _sitting there_ with her eyes wide and her lips parted as she tries not to tremble, tries not to _ache_ at the feeling of him. _Gods_, the stretch is something _else_, it’s always something _else_.

“Cayleb,” she mumbles, sitting still there for a moment longer as he watches. He raises an eyebrow, looking to her with that bright-eyed reverence in his eyes, and she _preens_, tilting her head and giving him an impish smile. “Don’t thrust _up_, okay?” She pouts, watching keenly as his eyes darken on her pushed out lower lip. “I’ll do the hard _work_, you just sit and be _good_ for me, alright?” Her tail reaches out to stroke his cheek, and he leans into the touch of the spade, shivers as it curls around the silver loop of the collar. Jester leans over, trying not to _groan_ at how the movement makes her _shift_ around his cock and _failing_, and pulls him into a chaste little kiss, the tail tugging him up gently. He keeps his mouth open for her, and Jester kisses his nose afterwards, loving the slide of her soft tits against his body. Her hair curtains them, and she pulls back, grinning as her hands reach for his shoulders, bracing herself. “I _want_ you to let me fuck you.”

“Okay, sir,” he sighs, his knuckles _white_ from how hard he’s _tensing_. He _moans_ as Jester begins to rock her hips against him, pulling up slightly before dragging _down_ on his cock, and she _grins _at his flush, at his moans, at the words leaving his bruised pink lips as he stumbles through _begging_. Pretty words, like _sir _and _please_ and _more_, hips trembling under her but _not _jerking up, letting her do the work like she _wants_ to. Her fingers _dig_ into his shoulders, fingernails scratching lightly into that pale skin, and he groans through that too, shakes through that _too_. He’s so _responsive_ to her every thrust, his breathing getting more uneven as she lightly tugs on his collar here and there, reminding him he’s _hers_, he’s _Jester_’s. “_Yours_,” he whispers as she clenches down on him. He’s trying so _hard_ not to come until she tells him to, she can see it all over his desperate face. “_Yours, _sir.”

Jester _grinds_ down on him, feeling that _stretch_ along her inner walls, and moans, biting her lower lip as she continues to _thrust_, continues to clench _down_ on his cock every time her thighs are flush against him. Her hair is a _mess_ around her face, and words are leaving past her lips as she raises a hand to play with one of her tits, as she feels him pressing into her. He’s so _warm_ compared to how _cold_ she is, she _knows_ from how he groans and shifts his hips that he finds her pressed around his dick to be an aching relief, knows not being in charge and being in this subspace so fucking _comforting. _All he has to do is lay still, do what she asks, be good for her, and she knows he finds it so _relieving, _she’s so glad that it’s _her_ giving him this relief, so glad he finds _her_ presence something soft, something nice. He really _is_ good, in every meaning of the phrase, and maybe as she rolls her hips and keeps saying it to him, again and again, _good, so good, you’re so good, my good boy_, he might actually _believe _her, might believe he’s good in more ways than just how she fucks her cunt on his face. Just like how his whispered reverence makes her believe for slight stretches of time that she really is _perfect_, that someone finds her _perfect._

_I do,_ Jester thinks, as her hand playing with her nipple lowers until it’s trailing down her stomach and splayed against her cunt, curling inwards until she’s rubbing her clit with it. _I do think you’re good, and I do think you’re perfect, I’m not just saying that because you look like _heaven _wearing that collar_. He _does_ look like heaven, is the thing, that beautiful strip of black reminding her he’s _hers_, not _Astrid’s_ or _anyone_ else’s, which is more arousing than nearly _anything_ else. Her thrusts are becoming uneven, and he’s begging, he’s whispering _please_, and she can’t deny herself for too long, deny _him _for too long, and she’s been denying him for so very, very long _already…. _He _blinks_ as she shifts her jaw and _grins_ at him, all desperate and heaving, her back tensing as—

Jester _comes_, her back arching slightly on him and her fingers tightly pinching her clit as she does. Her mouth is parted, and her moan is _obscene_ as she feels the waves of pleasure roll over her trembling body still on him, splayed on top of him with his cock still _hard_, still in her, still _waiting_ with his fingers clenching the bed sheet, his own groans and sighs so _desperate_. She pulls off of him, the sound of her cunt dragging against his pretty cock making her _smile_ despite her wringed out tiredness, and she opens her mouth, telling him to _come, Cayleb, come for me_, watching him _tense_ as he comes against his stomach as she strokes him through it, sitting there beside him. “_Good_,” she praises, as he trembles in her grasp. She keeps stroking him until he _whines_, and then she leans back to rest beside him, fingers wiping against the sheets. Her tail slowly disentangles from his collar, and she sighs, leaning over to kiss him. He’s so warm against her, and she grins as she feels his hand in her hair, this chaste kiss that leaves her breathless. “Want _that_ off, Cayleb?” She looks to the collar.

“… Maybe in a couple minutes,” he mumbles, looking _thoroughly _fucked out, and Jester _nods_, running a hand through his hair and pushing the loose strands off his forehead. She kisses him there, closing her eyes as she feels that heated skin against her lips, and finds him watching her hazily when she opens them again. “Danke, Lavorre.” His voice is soft, and Jester smiles, a finger tracing over his cheekbone as he lays limply against the bed sheets. He sounds so _genuine_, so _grateful_, so _happy_, and it makes her tail flick around, makes her face flush to know that it was _her_ who did that to him.

“Of _course_,” Jester says, feeling _just _as hazy, _just _as sleepy, _just _as content. She wraps an arm around his chest, grinning as he casts _Prestidigitation _to clean up some of the mess, and kisses his shoulder. “You were so _good_, you know.” She tries to say it casually, tries not to sound _too _intent with her words. _I think you’re good. I think you’re so good, and I’ll fight anyone who says you aren’t, except for you. I’ll just kiss you_. Her hair is strewn over his skin where she rests, and she closes her eyes.

“… Danke, Jester.” It’s a whisper, and she can _feel _the way his breath stutters just slightly as he says her name. It’s been a _while _since he’s called her by her name—as much as she likes _sir_, she fucking _loves_ the sound of _Jester_ in his voice. _Jes-ter_. His lilting accent soft over the syllables, full of fondness and _love_, so much _love_.

“You already _said_ that,” she says quietly, smiling and pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

“Ja,” he sighs, and she feels him shift, feels his head move to look up at the ceiling. “You’ve got me all dazed.” There’s a momentary pause as she works out what to say, but before she can, he adds, his voice clearing before he speaks, “In a _really _good way, Jester.” _Jes-ter_. She tightens her arms around him, a fishnet-clad leg rising to _also _curl around him possessively, and she knows he's smiling, feels his hand in her hair. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“Love you,” Jester echoes, pressing into his body beside hers. He’s so _warm,_ and Jester lets herself _sink _into it, _sink _into him.

Her sleep is peaceful.


End file.
